Nothin's Wrong Just As Long As You Know (That Someday I Will)
by Ricechex
Summary: Bones - I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, and I just need you to know that. You're the damn love of my life, and here I go, fucking it up again. **** Sequel to, "The Past Is Gone..." Set the morning after Jim shows up on Bones' door. (This story works best if you read, "Past...," first.)


The bed is still warm.

Leonard rolls over to the feeling of paper against his cheek and nothing but sheets against his limbs. He blinks until he can keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds, pushing up on his elbow and groping at the pillow with his other hand.

Jim's tiny scrawl greets him.

_Bones -_

_I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, and I just __want__ need you to know that._

_You're the damn love of my life, and here I go, fucking it up again._

_I wanted to be there when you woke up. I wanted to watch you come back to the world - your face just before you wake up is still the best thing I've ever seen in the entire universe. Jesus, I've missed it. I've missed you. This was the best I've slept in years, and it's because you were there beside me._

_But I... I can't right now. I can't be this guy, can't be the guy you need. The guy you deserve. God, I feel so stupid saying that, but... you deserve so much better than I can be right now._

_I won't ask you to wait. But I promise, I'm coming back to you._

_Yours always, in this and every world out there,_

_-Jim_

Leonard reads it twice, then sits up, and reads it a third time.

His hands shake and he growls as he crumples the note, hands mashing it over and over, compacting it as small as he can make it. He lobs it across the room, and launches himself out of bed.

He's downstairs standing on the porch before he thinks about any of it.

He sinks onto the swing his grandaddy had built, and he watches the empty road for an hour, letting his thoughts swirl and form around the emotions he can't properly name.

Then he gets up, and makes himself a cup of tea.

In the long run, it was probably better this way. Jim had, on multiple occasions, proven himself to be not made for a quiet life. Leonard could stay in one place for days, weeks, months. He was content to work his shifts at the local hospital, or laze about in the hammock on a sunny day, or spend a stormy afternoon scrubbing the kitchen.

But Jim was a force of nature. Ebbing and flowing like the tides; he was a hurricane battering the shores of Leonard's life. And Leonard had always borne it willingly, even after things had gone sideways.

He licks his lips and sits down at his table and puts his head in his hands.

"Dammit, Jim. I'm not supposed to be this fucked up over you still."

He goes through the motions; makes coffee, scrambles eggs and toasts two slices of bread, cuts an apple into wedges and settles at the table. He eats everything, washes the plate immediately after, rinses out his mug and sets them to dry on the rack.

He grabs his comm and stares at the screen. _No new transmissions_.

The sound of the comm smacking against the wall isn't nearly as satisfying as he wants, but it's all he can do.

That night, he curls into the side of the bed Jim slept on, and smothers himself in the faint, lingering scent.

He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning and mumbling, until the sound of the stairs creaking sends him shooting out of bed. He flings his bedroom door open and halts abruptly when he comes face to face with _someone_.

"Who the fuck are you and why-"

"Bones."

Leonard swallows. "Jim?" His voice is too soft, too timid, and he takes a breath as his eyes focus on Jim's baby-blues, and says, "I thought-"

Jim's lips cut him off, and then Jim is in his arms again, walking him back to the bed, pushing him down and climbing on top of him, hands skimming up his bare torso as his lips work their way down his neck.

"Forgive me?"

Jim's tongue licks a long, wide stripe across Leonard's neck, and Leonard gasps and says, "Of course."

Jim pulls back. "You sure? Bones, I… I shouldn't even had asked, but…"

Leonard's hand comes up to stroke Jim's cheek. "I love you."

Jim closes his eyes and leans his head into the touch. "You shouldn't."

Leonard smiles. "That's probably true."

Jim chuckles, coughs, sinks down against Leonard's body and shakes. His arms tighten against Leonard's sides, and Leonard holds him.

"I want this. I want this so much."

Leonard kisses the top of his head and says, "I wish you'd stop running."

Jim lets out a breath against Leonard's chest and says, "You know I can't."

Leonard blinks against the sting in his eyes and says, "Doesn't change what I want."

Jim laughs quietly again, takes a deep breath and presses his ear over Leonard's heart. "There it is. That lion-heart."

Leonard gasps and sits upright in his bed.

His breathing is harsh and too quick, too heavy, as he looks around the room.

His door is still closed.

His legs are still covered by the blanket.

Jim isn't there.

He brings his knees to his chest, buries his face against them, and lets himself cry in the quiet.


End file.
